


Pet

by sparrowkeet1



Series: Purr-verse [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Butt Plugs, Dom Zuko, Dom/sub, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Shameless Smut, Sub Katara, very light pet play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowkeet1/pseuds/sparrowkeet1
Summary: As a third-year medical student, Katara doesn't exactly have a lot of free time; as a doctoral candidate in the last phases of his dissertation, Zuko fares no better. They do their best to snatch moments together here and there, but they are both feeling the distance and the strain. So when Katara finds herself unexpectedly able to attend Sokka and Suki's Halloween party, it is all the more disappointing that Zuko will be flying back from a conference instead of coordinating a cheesy couple's costume with her.Then she thinks of a way to use her costume to bring the party to him.--Written as a sequel to/spin-off ofPurrbut can stand alone.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Series: Purr-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963585
Comments: 12
Kudos: 222





	Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Friends, this is unrepentant Halloween-costume smut. Please enjoy.

Weekends aren’t really a thing for medical students. 

Katara is in her third year now, which means she spends the majority of her time in clerkships at Ba Sing Se Medical Center, rotating through the different services and wards. It is nice not to have quite so many tests thrown at her quite so constantly, and she loves getting to do actual patient care. 

Clerkships bring a different set of challenges, though--namely, the horrible hours. She remembers grilling Zuko on this years ago--what about when she works nights and barely sees him for weeks on end--and the problem has come home to roost. Days, nights, weekends--somehow it seems like she is at the hospital for all of them, all the time. 

Zuko is, as she should have expected, completely unfazed by this. He is just as busy in the final phases of his doctoral program, though he is still the one who is steady and calm through the tumult of their lives. He steals moments with her when he can; he brings her lunch and makes her take a half-hour to sit down to eat with him; he is perfectly willing to have a hurried, desperate tryst in the shower while they are both rushing to work. Really, he has been a saint, and she feels a little guilty for the imbalance--him always giving, her always taking, the bulk of their time together spent with her sleeping like the dead wrapped in his arms. 

So when Suki and Sokka invite them to their Halloween party on a Saturday night, it’s no surprise to anyone that neither of them can come. Katara is on call, and Zuko will be at a conference in Gaoling all week; Suki sends Katara frowning emojis but adds, 

S: _We figured--you can always drop by if something changes though!_

K: _Thanks, Suki. You’re the best._

Then she swaps on-call shifts at the last minute with a classmate who has had a family emergency and finds herself suddenly, unexpectedly free for the weekend of the party. It seems monumentally unfair to her, then, that Zuko won’t be back from Gaoling until the early hours of Sunday morning--she finally has time to do something fun, and he isn’t here, and she may shed a few tears in the shower over the outsize disappointment she feels. Zuko may be a saint, but the stress of both of their jobs is starting to wear on her; even their shower sessions have been few and far between lately. 

“You go ahead to the party without me--try to have some fun,” he says on the phone when she calls late on the Friday before. She is finally done with her day in the OR, exhausted and with a truly impressive variety of stains on her scrubs, and Zuko has stayed up to talk to her even though Gaoling is an hour ahead. “You deserve it. Besides, when was the last time you saw our friends?” 

“ _You_ deserve more than this,” she grumbles. 

“Hush,” he scolds. “I signed up for this, Kitten. Stop feeling guilty about it.” 

“Well, now all my negative feelings are solved,” she jokes, but the pet name and the command underneath his tone make sparks flare to life in her belly. When was the last time she had well and truly taken an order from him? 

She asks him how Gaoling is, and she really does try to listen, but a plan is taking shape in the back of her mind. It is a very, very evil plan, somewhere between an offering to and a goading of her long-suffering boyfriend. She’s fairly sure Zuko will both love it and punish her for it. 

Sounds like a win-win to her.

***

Even though Suki and Sokka are hosting the Halloween party, and therefore Suki undoubtedly has a million things to do, she offers to go costume shopping with Katara the second she finds out Katara will be able to come after all. 

“I can help you set up after this,” Katara says by way of repayment. 

Suki waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I left Sokka and Toph very specific instructions.” 

Katara cocks an eyebrow at her. 

“Okay, maybe I could use a hand.” 

Katara laughs as they walk downtown, soaking in the crisp air and the changing leaves and the first glimpse of her best friend she’s had in months. “How is Sokka? How’s your work? How is Sokka’s new job?” 

Suki ticks them off one by one. “Sokka is good--he did go through a goatee phase recently, but we’re finally out of that, thank the Spirits--my work is okay--our manager quit last month and we just got a new one who may or may not know what he’s doing--and Sokka’s new job seems to be alright, but he’s still getting oriented.” She holds open the door of the costume shop for Katara. “How about you? How’s Zuko? Gosh, it’s really been a long time since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it?” 

Katara falters just inside, casting a guilty look toward Suki. “It has been. I’m so sorry. I know I haven’t been a good friend lately. Or maybe for, like, the last two and a half years.” 

“Oh, stop it. You have a good reason to be running low on free time.” Suki starts sliding hangers across the racks of costumes. “I told you a bunch of us are doing a superhero theme, right?” 

Katara hides her smirk behind a sexy nurse outfit--a little too close to home for her, she thinks. “You told me. I have something in mind--are you guys sticking to Marvel, though?” 

“No.” Suki rolls her eyes. “Sokka insists on being Super-Man, and Toph insists on being Daredevil, so we’re mixing the bag. You’re not a comic book purist, are you?” 

“No, no.” Katara has found precisely what she’s looking for. “I wanted something from DC, anyway.” 

***

Maybe it’s too on-the-nose. She looks at herself in Suki’s bathroom mirror, wondering if this is too much, too cheesy, too tacky. Maybe her devious plan is just stupid. 

Suki sticks her head in the open door. “Are you read-- _damn_ , girl.” 

Katara puts her face in her hands. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” 

“What are you talking about? You look phenomenal.” 

Katara peeks at Suki through her fingers. “You think so? I don’t just look like a slut?” 

Suki puts her fists on her hips. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with that. Second of all, it’s a solid costume that also happens to look very sexy, particularly on you.” She stretches out her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Here, I’ll prove it to you. Give me your phone and I’ll send Zuko a picture. He’ll _die_.”

“That was kind of the plan,” Katara mumbles, a little embarrassed to have been caught, but Suki just gives a knowing smile and angles the camera so the lighting is just right.

“I already sent it to him,” Suki informs her smugly when she hands the phone back over. “So you couldn’t chicken out. Now come on, or Sokka’s going to eat all the Halloween candy and be sick.” 

Katara laughs and lets Suki drag her out into the swing of the party. Sokka is, indeed, cradling the entire plastic serving bowl of candy corn to his chest, but even that isn’t enough to erase her own image from her mind. She can only hope Zuko will like it as much as Suki does. 

***

She’s fucking _Catwoman._

Zuko gets Katara’s picture just as he has settled into his seat for the trip back to Ba Sing Se. He had been about to text her that he would be taking off soon and landing in a few hours--just boring couple stuff, normal shuffling of logistics, certainly nothing that would give him a very prominent, very uncomfortable erection for the duration of a transcontinental flight. And he had been about to tell her not to wait up for him, but _now_...

Now he lets his eyes linger on the photo, on the way the skin-tight black catsuit hugs every curve, the way she has made up her eyes dark and smoky, the fucking _ears and tail_ \--he’s not a comic book expert, but he’s pretty sure the actual Catwoman doesn’t have an actual tail. As if he needed any proof beyond the cock of her hip to know that this is her teasing him, _tormenting_ him, dressed as his perfect Kitty Kat in the most literal and mouth-watering way possible. He feels a little lightheaded with the sight of her--he didn’t even know he had a thing for cat ears, but _fuck_...

With shaking fingers he answers her: 

Z: _You’re going to pay for that when I get home._

K: _Hope so._

He curses under his breath and saves the photo to his phone before he has to put it on airplane mode. It’s going to be a long flight. Might as well enjoy the view. 

***

Zuko bounces his knee nonstop on the ride back from the airport; he thinks he might be scaring his Uber driver, but he’s wound too tight to care. He’d gotten off the plane to a new picture of Katara with the catsuit half-unzipped, her mouth twisted into a smirk that is far too self-satisfied for him to leave it there unperturbed. 

K: _Waiting for you at home. I was going to be naked when you got here--or did you want to take the suit off yourself?_

He answers her in the car, and she texts back right away.

Z: _Suit off, but keep the ears._

K: _Yes, sir._

He’ll miss the tail, and peeling her out of the costume would be satisfying in its own way, but he wants his hands on her bare skin as soon as possible. It’s been a few weeks, maybe even a month, since they’ve had some time to themselves, and he’s been running keyed-up even without this latest attempt to make his head explode. Now she is taunting him, and he thinks if he doesn’t touch her soon he might combust. 

She is normally such a good girl, so sweet and pliant under his hands. It is something transcendent to have her submit to him, this woman who is smart and sharp and strong who chooses to yield, only to him. He loves it, loves her, lives for the way her eyes flutter closed when she murmurs _yes sir_ soft and pretty. 

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love this, too, this bratty Katara who pushes him, teases him, begs for punishment. She searches for the edge of his self-control so she can throw herself over it, and only when he is snarling and brutal does she finally behave. She wants him to take her apart, and he does it gladly, and he recognizes this is one of those nights even if she doesn’t know it yet herself. He sees the costume for what it is--a deliberate provocation with an undercurrent of raw need, a plea for him to notice her, touch her, fuck her, love her. 

He’s more than happy to oblige. 

If he’s honest with himself, his own need flares to life in his chest in answer to hers. He has been running on empty longer than he realized--maybe both of them have. As much as his domination of her will soothe an ache in her rib cage, her submission to him will do the same for his own. Once it all slots together in his mind, he feels like he can barely stand to wait another second; when the car pulls into his apartment complex he nearly leaves his suitcase in the trunk in his haste. 

He fumbles with his keys, dumps his bag inside his front door, steps into his bedroom with his heart in his throat--

There she is, perched on the bed in lacy black lingerie that definitely did not come with the costume, the black fabric ears peeking out over the tangle of her hair. She has that same smug quirk of her lips, so without a word he strides across the room to yank her up and wipe that look off her face. With his teeth. 

Spirits, he had forgotten how good it really felt to _fight_ with her, biting at her mouth while she molds her body to his, giving as good as she gets. She works one hand between them to palm his cock through his jeans; in retaliation, he pulls on a fistful of hair so he can sink his teeth into the long column of her throat. This has the added advantage of leaving her mouth free so he can hear the sighs and moans that spill from her parted lips and most of all the shuddering gasp of his name when he presses his thigh between hers. 

“You,” he growls against her skin, “are in trouble.” 

“Am I?” she asks breathlessly, grinding her hips shamelessly against his leg. “Whatever for?” 

He pulls away just to hear her whine. “You are the worst fucking tease, you know that? _Catwoman._ ” He surveys the sheer lace of her skimpy lingerie and how little it does to hide the slick at the apex of her thighs and the hardened peaks of her nipples. “If you wanted to get fucked so bad, Kitten, you could’ve just asked.” He is reaching to rid her of even that barrier between them when he registers one of her hands clenched tight around something. “What do you have there?”

All at once she looks hesitant. He blinks. It has been a long, long time since she has turned shy in his grasp; she is usually sweet, sometimes mischievous, but she hasn’t been unsure since they were just starting out. 

He takes a steadying breath that does hardly anything to quell the angry pulse in his cock, but it will have to be enough. “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears, “what’s the matter?” 

“I, um.” She looks down, but he tips her chin back up. “The costume, you know, it has--I mean, cats have…” She holds out her hand, still clutching at whatever it is. “I have the ears on still, but there’s also supposed to be a tail.” 

The air punches out of his lungs. He knows what it is before she uncurls her fingers, love and lust flooding and tangling and thrumming in his veins. _”Spirits, Katara.”_ The plug is slender and black, resting innocuously enough on her open palm, flared at the base where the tail is attached. _”Fuck.”_ He runs a shaking hand through his hair. “This is what you want, you’re sure?” 

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” She shifts uncomfortably, chewing her lip. “I guess I should have talked to you about it first. I’m sorry, I--” 

It’s the first time she has initiated some new step entirely on her own, and he’ll be damned if he lets her look so abashed; besides, she is starting to pull away, and he can’t possibly abide that.

He snatches her wrist with a snarl. “You have no idea how much I--” he cuts himself off; this is not about him. “Never say you’re sorry for asking what you want.” His eyes search her face, which is still tense and uncertain. “ _Is_ this what you want?” 

“Yes,” she peeps. He jerks her closer with his grip on her arm. 

“Is that what you say?” he breathes, seeing red, dizzy with desire. _Fuck_ , he had never dared to hope--it wasn’t the sort of thing he would ask her to do, even though he has wanted--

Up close, her eyes are huge and dark, and her lower lip trembles. He kisses her to steady it, long and slow and deep, and that’s what does it--she sags into his arms, his sweet pliant girl once again. His heart wrenches to think of how timid she had been before; now that she knows he won’t recoil from her wanting, the tension bleeds out of her body. How has he let her get this far still thinking he could ever turn her down? As if he could deny her anything, as if he would deny her--

He plucks the tail from her fingers, turning it over while he tastes the inside of her mouth. Her hands scrabble at his shirt, pulling him closer, so he walks her backwards until she touches the edge of the bed. Then he turns her around with his hands on her hips and orders, “Bend over.” 

There’s a sight he’ll never tire of, her hands braced on the mattress, that pretty ass in the air. He grabs a rough handful of flesh and then draws back to spank her, hard. She gasps brokenly; he treasures the sound. “I told you.” He switches sides to pop her again. “You’re in trouble.” With that he yanks down her panties and gives her a dozen more strokes, drawing a needier whimper from her every time until she is pushing her hips back into each blow, desperate for the contact. When he thinks she can’t take any more without hurting later, he puts his palms on her ass and spreads her carefully open, holding his breath, giving her time to say no.

But she doesn’t; instead, she drops to her elbows and buries her face in her forearms, putting a lovely arch in her spine that makes his vision white out with longing--when he finally fucks her, if he lasts that long, if he doesn’t come in his jeans from the sheer eroticism of this new intimacy--it’s the perfect angle for him to drive into her hard and deep, and he knows her posture is no accident. 

So he runs one thumb over her slit, biting back a groan at how wet and ready she is even though he has barely touched her here. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Tormenting me.” He moves further down to rub circles over her swollen clit. “You’re my perfect little Kitten, except for when you’re my filthy little slut, begging to get punished.” Two fingers part her soaked folds easily, sliding into her as a moan tumbles out of her mouth. “We’ve been busy lately, and I’ve been neglecting you, and now you’re acting out to get my attention, hm?” He pumps his fingers, drinking in her little moans. “Even then, you’re so fucking good for me. Even when you’re being bad, you’re so sweet, asking for what you want. _Spirits_ , you did so good, you’re perfect.” 

He withdraws his dripping fingers and slowly moves them up to trace lightly over the puckered skin of her hole; she makes some sound between a whine and a whimper and a sob. “Kat?” 

“I’m good,” she answers immediately, and she _is_. “I’m okay.” 

He pauses his movements. “You want me to stop?” 

She shoves her hips back against his fingers. “ _Please_ don’t stop.” 

He has to squeeze his eyes shut at the way her voice sounds desperate and broken with her wanting. And he is powerless to deny her anything she wants.

Especially when she asks so nicely. 

So he picks up the tail, turning it over in his free hand, and keeps petting her, listening to the hitch and stutter of her breath. She has chosen well--the plug is no wider than his smallest finger, tapered at one end. She’ll be able to take it, he’s sure, and then--he can hardly stand to think about _then_ , about how she’ll look with the tail swishing between her legs, about how she’ll cry out with overstimulation when he fucks her with the plug still inside, and suddenly he _needs_ to see it in her. 

He eases the plug into her pussy, coating it liberally with her juices, until she is whimpering and pleading, and then he presses the tip carefully against her little hole. “So good,” he tells her soothingly, even though he feels anything but calm. “You’re perfect, you’re so lovely I can’t fucking stand it, let me make you feel good, let me make you scream--” She nearly does, muffling the choked-off noise into her arms, when the widest part of it slips into her and now only the flared base and the tail are visible. _Fuck_ , is it the hottest thing he’s ever seen. 

He strokes down the perfect curve of her spine and walks around the bed to look at her properly, watching the tail twitch with the little movements of her hips. “Kitten?”

“Yeah?” she gasps. 

“Look at me.” 

She picks her head up and straightens her arms, and he swears at the sight of her face. She is wrecked, her eyes glassy and lips parted, cheeks flushed crimson. 

“My perfect little pet,” he marvels, smoothing her hair back. She purrs under the praise; he leans in to kiss her slack mouth. She wriggles her hips, a wanton invitation, and who is he to say no? So he gets back behind her and unzips his jeans and hisses as he takes his aching cock in hand, guiding it toward her entrance. She drops back to her elbows so he can fuck all the way into her on his first rough thrust. A feral noise rips out of him at how hot and tight she is around the length of him—Spirits, he has missed this, missed _her_. 

And this is her on a level he didn’t know existed, crying out with every thrust, whimpering with every withdrawal. A sheen of sweat covers her back, dampening strands of her hair where they stick to the nape of her neck; he can see her shoulders and arms trembling. He is a little concerned, and he slows his pace to ask her if she’s alright. Before he can, a sob rattles out of her throat and she gasps, “Don’t stop, don’t go—“

He bites his lip until it bleeds and slams back into her. He had said she was acting out; he was more right than he knew. “Not going anywhere,” he grits out, delirious with his need and hers, dizzy with it. “Never. You’re mine.” 

“Yours,” she whimpers, her hands fisted in the bedsheets. 

Stars blink at the edge of his vision; he sets a filthy grind of their hips and tells her, “Come for me, Kitten, I’ve got you; come on my cock, be a good girl, do as you’re told--” It’s more of a plea than an order--he is so close he can taste it--but she is his perfect sweet girl, so she listens anyway, her walls clenching tight around him as she keens and he spills inside her. 

“Fuck,” he gasps when the last pulses of his orgasm have faded. _”Fuck.”_ It seems words have left him, so bowled-over is he by the sight of her, the mess between her legs and that pretty tail still in her. He puts one hand on her hip, steadying her, and works the plug gently free. She makes that sobbing noise again when it is gone, so he eases her onto her side and slots himself behind her to gather her limp frame into his arms. “I love you,” are the words that come back to him first, so he whispers them into her hair over and over until her breathing steadies and she twists around in his embrace to look at him. 

“I love you, too.” She nuzzles against his jaw and throat, laying little licks and kisses across his skin that are so cat-like that his spent cock twitches ever-so-slightly at the idea. “I missed you,” she whispers again his shoulder. 

“I know, sweetheart. I missed you, too. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” 

“No,” she protests, pulling back to look at him. He realizes she still has the ears on, and he would laugh except it’s super fucking hot even now that he is sated and sleepy. “I’m the one who’s at the hospital all the time; _I’ve_ been neglecting _you_. You’re so calm and helpful, and I’m just a mess, and--”

He kisses her to shut her up. When he is finished--for now--her cheeks are flushed all over again. “I like taking care of you,” he tells her, drinking in the way her face goes soft and fond. “It’s my job, and it’s a job I want. Your job is to let me.” He brushes his lips over her brow as her eyelids droop, her lashes casting little shadows over her cheekbones. “And to keep the ears,” he adds. “And _definitely_ to keep the tail.” 

She smiles. “Yes, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this foray into kinkier territory with our favorite soul mates. Comments greatly appreciated. Happy Halloween!


End file.
